


Swerve X Reader - Changes

by writeyouin



Series: Swerve X Reader - A Human Crewmate & Changes [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, F/M, Fluff, I'm going to make sure you all die inside upon reading this, Married Dorks, NSFW, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sex, Smut, You wanted happiness? Think again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: A sequel to Swerve X Reader - A Human Crewmate.A year into the marriage of Swerve and you, things seem to be going well, until hidden secrets start to mount up and the pressure is on. Will marriage be everything Swerve wanted or will he find himself alone again? Life has a way of making changes and they're not always for the best. What awaits the happy couple in this series?





	1. The Happiest Couple

**Author's Note:**

> A/N – Can you believe we are back? I always planned to come back to this story, especially with the way I ended A Human Crewmate, but I never imagined the story would get as much popularity as it did. It is, to date, the story I am most proud of. So, without further ado, I give you the sequel Swerve X Reader – Changes  
P.S. IF YOU WISH TO AVOID THE SMUT, IT STARTS AT THIS LINE: . When you drew back, he looked dazed, his visor flashing somewhat mischievously.  
AND IT LASTS TILL THE END OF THE CHAPTER.

Swerve cried out in his sleep, writhing next to you on the berth. You woke up groggily, stuck in the hazy mind of a deep-sleeper.

“Wha-” You mumbled, rubbing sleep from your eyes and blinking hard to adjust them to the darkness surrounding you. Swerve whimpered what sounded like a plea, an immediately you became alert to his nightmare.

“Swerve,” You whispered, shaking his chassis to little effect. “Swerve, wake up.”

“Please-” Swerve groaned. “No- Please-”

“Swerve, it’s okay. Wake up.”

Swerve screamed, waking with a start and jolting up into a sitting position, his cyan-blue optics flickering online.

“Hey,” You said soothingly, “it’s okay, I’m here. It was just a nightmare.”

“(Y/N)?” Swerve’s vocaliser filled with static, the remnant of his nightmare trying to drag his muddled processor deeper into the land of fear, shame and bad memories.

“Yes sweetheart, it’s me, I’m here,” You stepped over his leg to hug his chassis reassuringly. Swerve wrapped his servos around your back, clinging to you desperately, making you his anchor to reality.

Although nightmares weren’t an every-day occurrence, they were common enough that the two of you had a system in place to free one-another of them. Sometimes, it was Swerve protecting you from the claustrophobia of deep-space, and occasionally on nights such as this, it was you helping Swerve through a panic-attack about the war that had plagued Cybertronians for millennia. After living with Cybertronians for so long, you’d found that the majority of them had some form of PTSD from the war; Swerve was no different.

Swerve’s cooling fans whirred erratically. The sounds of gunfire, the destruction of his planet, and old friends shrieking as they came to their untimely demises plagued his audial receptors. He pushed you away and scraped his servos against his helm as if trying to claw out his audials. “(Y/N)- (Y/N), please-”

You nodded sombrely, understanding exactly what he was asking. In times like this, when he couldn’t shake the sounds of his worst fears, he needed something else to listen to. Although you weren’t much of a singer, you recited him the ever-famous words from the Velvet Underground.

“I'm sticking with you. 'Cause I'm made out of glue. Anything that you might do, I'm gonna do too.”

Slowly, as you sang the old song, Swerve’s cooling fans shuddered to a slow stop.

“You held up a stagecoach in the rain. And I'm doing the same. Saw you hanging from a tree. And I made believe it was me.”

Swerve was glad for the sound of your voice; it was one of the few things that cleared away the memories of the countless battles he’d been in throughout his life. Hesitantly, Swerve removed his servos from his helm. “Thank you,” he said tiredly.

You caressed Swerve’s cheek, silently conveying that you would always be there for him, for better or worse as the vows went. Standing on your tip-toes, you kissed Swerve’s helm gently, pressing your forehead against his afterwards. The two of you stayed frozen in time momentarily, until you were sure he was going to be okay.

Normally, you would have sat up talking with Swerve, but this was the first time he’d recharged in a while and he looked like he needed the rest. Instead of assuming his needs, you asked, “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

While Swerve was afraid of the realm of nightmares that might decide to revisit him, he was confident that as long as you were by his side, everything would be alright. Ever since you married him, it seemed as if his life was working out in a way it didn’t before. He gave a small smile, “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up.”

“Every night for the rest of my life,” You beamed.

Swerve wished he could return the smile, but once again, you had accidentally reminded him how short your life-span was. It didn’t matter so much now of course, because he had the mini-con shell Perceptor and Brainstorm had built, simply waiting for the day when you would need it, though that was a long-time away hopefully. The only problem was that Swerve hadn’t had the courage to tell you about it yet. He was afraid that if he told you, you would think that he wanted to change you, but that wasn’t the case at all; if Swerve could preserve your human body for all time, he would but it just wasn’t possible.

Misconstruing his frown as residual fear, you laid down again, encouraging Swerve to do the same, and placing your arm over his side in a weak attempt to be the big spoon. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ve got you. Always.”

Swerve let his optics go offline, but his frown remained. Sure, you had him, but how long would he have you if he didn’t tell you about your new body soon? Swerve resolved to tell you sometime within the next seven cycles; with that promise to himself, he fell back into a dreamless recharge.

Sure that Swerve was asleep, you smiled again. The clock on the wall behind him showed that it was exactly one minute past midnight. “Happy anniversary,” You whispered to his recharging form.

Under normal circumstances, you knew he would have remembered and thrown a celebration right then and there, but the nightmare had served as something of a distraction to his internal clock. It didn’t matter to you; Swerve needed a few more hours rest, as did you. Once the two of you got back up in the morning, there would be plenty of time for celebrating.

* * *

“(Y/N)!” Swerve shouted.

You screamed, rolling off the berth onto the floor. Swerve bit his lip; he hadn’t meant to scare you that bad. When he saw you were okay however, he couldn’t stop himself from launching into the rant he had planned.

“WHAT THE FRAG WAS THAT LAST NIGT, HUH? ‘DO YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP?’ WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME IT WAS OUR ANNIVERSARY? Granted, I should have known, but I was tired and stuff. Seven hours. Primus, we’ve lost seven hours of our anniversary-cycle by recharging. That was mean, you are by far the worst- Are you seriously laughing right now?”

Despite the ache in your hip from falling the short drop off the berth, you couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry, it’s just- It’s such a **you** thing to rant about.”

“What does that even mean?”

You grinned ecstatically, “It means I love you.”

Swerve regained his usual goofy grin, “Ah, how can I be mad at you?”

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. Swerve spun around, planting a kiss on your lips that was supposed to last much longer but he tripped over his pedes, barely managing to regain his balance; apparently kissing while spinning was much harder than the movies made it look. All the same, the two of you were giggling like the crazy pair you had grown to be.

You went to kiss him again, but Swerve put his arms out, holding you in the air. “No,” He said adamantly. “No way, no how, no more kissing.”

“Oh really?” You looked at him sceptically. “And why is that?”

“If you kiss me now, I won’t be able to stop, and we will never leave this room, and that will waste the whole day I planned for us… which we already lost seven hour of by recharging.”

You looked him up and down suggestively, “I don’t think that’s so bad. I could _devour _you.”

Swerve dropped you to cover his audials, loudly humming a made up tune, “LA LA LA, I’M NOT LISTENING. NOPE, NO FRAGGING YET. NOPE, I’M JUST GONNA THINK OF UNSEXY THINGS LIKE ULTRA MAGNUS AND STUFF!”

You hit his leg lightly, deciding not to taunt him for now; you could do that later. “Alright, you win. What have you got-”

Your communicator beeped on top of the berth, alerting you to a message. From experience, you knew ignoring it was trouble if it was someone like Rodimus, who sent very loud ship-wide announcements to make sure you couldn’t ignore him. If you still didn’t answer to the announcements, he’d step it up by setting up a game of capture the human, which many of the mechs found amusing since it annoyed you so much.

You jumped up at the berth, scrambling to reach the phone. “We’ve really gotta lower this thing.”

“No way, I like helping my lady-love into bed,” Swerve chuckled.

“Well,” You jumped, missing again. “Could you help your ‘_lady-love_’ get the communicator off the berth?”

Swerve clicked thoughtfully, “Jeez… I mean I could, but you look adorable jumping and stuff.”

“Do it and I’ll wear the hot lingerie tonight, or watch me struggle and bet I can find some old lady underwear or even a chastity belt; I’m willing to bet there’s one in there.”

Swerve held up his hands like he was trying to calm a hostage situation, “Okay, take it easy. No need for threats here.” He bent down, pulling you into a smothering hug, “This is a safe place, shh, there, there now.”

Whatever you said was lost, your mouth muffled against his chassis. Reaching behind him, Swerve got your communicator, releasing you so you could check it. You scrunched your nose, annoyed by the message before you.

“What’s up?” Swerve asked, not overly concerned.

“You summoned the devil.”

“I did? Well, I mean, I thought we agreed that becoming Satanists was a good idea.”

“Not this time. This is the Tyrest Accord kind of devil. You said his name too many ties, like Beetlejuice.”

“Hey, I only said it once and it was because you’re far too hot.”

“Once was enough apparently.”

“So, what does he want?”

You ran to your wardrobe, which had been moved onto the floor along with the rest of your old stuff, the previous desk no longer deemed necessary since you and Swerve got married; it was an attempt to make the room seem more like an apartment rather than a segregated dorm. While you changed, you explained to Swerve what was going on.

“He wants a quick meeting about my job apparently.”

“Really? Again? What is it this time?” Swerve groaned, knowing how long Ultra Magnus’ meetings generally took.

Only a few months ago, you had passed an exam that Ultra Magnus had designed, stating you were fit to teach classes on Earth culture. Initially, the class had been full to the brim, then the majority of mechs dropped out considering that you weren’t going to teach them human sex tips. After that, you were left with a class of seventeen constant students, and usually around twenty or so who came as and when they could. Rewind was there to document every single lecture for those who couldn’t make it. You enjoyed the job greatly as it gave you a purpose aboard the ship, the only problem was that Ultra Magnus was technically your employer, and although he paid a very good wage since he believed education was the pinnacle of existence, he was extremely particular about your methods. Almost every week now, he would call you into a meeting to criticise your technique, lack of homework, the way you let your class pick the curriculum, or whatever else he found to be unprofessional.

This time, as it happened, Ultra Magnus wanted a meeting about the volume in which you spoke to the class, because it was not the correct decibel for teaching; at least, that was the lie you told Swerve. It was a believable lie to be fair, and you weren’t doing anything bad, but you couldn’t let Swerve know where you were really going on your anniversary; it would ruin the surprise.

“Okay, but do you have to go now?” Swerve asked. “Can’t it wait a day?”

You came out of the wardrobe, tying your hair up, and smiling sympathetically. “I wish it could, but he’s basically threatened to crash whatever it is you’ve planned if I don’t go.”

The crest-fallen look on Swerve’s face almost made you abandon your plan, but if everything went accordingly, you hoped it would make him the happiest mech alive.

“Well… What’s the plan then?” Swerve asked, hoping that you would have a solution.

Just like the lie you’d made up moments ago, you had another prepared for that question. “Fake-crying,” You said simply.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so I’ll go to this meeting and if it takes longer than thirty minutes, I’ll turn on the waterworks to make Maggie uncomfortable and then I’ll come straight to you and we can spend our anniversary how we want to.”

“Meet me at the bar?”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Gee, I don’t know about that… I’m having an affair with the owner and he might get jealous.”

That put Swerve back in good humour, “Yeah, he has been known to be insecure about his gal. Maybe I can talk it out with him about how you’re the best wife in the entire multiverse.”

He spun you around again, making you squeal in delight. Finally he let you go, walking you to the door, “Do you need a lift to Magnus’ office?”

You shook your head, “And get you dragged into the meeting too? You’re my excuse to leave if it runs over. Go, I’ll meet you at the bar, roomie.”

Swerve placed a parting kiss on your hand, before transforming and driving away, calling behind him, “You sure will, roomie.”

Once he was out of sight, you ran into the hab-suite, grabbing your hover-board and heading to your secret meeting with Ratchet and Velocity.

* * *

“Woah,” You said, stunned and unsure how to feel.

Velocity stroked your back empathetically. “Sorry (Y/N), we wish it wasn’t true but-”

“Hey, it’s okay, I get it- I just thought… I don’t know.”

Ratchet cleared his vocaliser, clearly uncomfortable with the way things were turning out. If all went well, by the then end of the meeting, he could make up for your lack of good news. You and Velocity looked up at Ratchet and you knew you had to talk, if only to get the answers you were looking for.

“Okay…” You said slowly. “So, I’m not pregnant. I um- Do we know why I missed my period? I’m not on any meds or anything… I figured I didn’t need them since Swerve’s not-”

“Human,” Ratchet finished. “Yes, well, it seems your period stopped because of a slight hormonal imbalance. It took us some time to find the cause but it turns out to be a side-effect of consuming cloned-food from Perceptor’s replicator.”

“Will it cause me any damage in the long run?”

“No,” Velocity answered, pointing out a graph on the projector beside Ratchet. “As you can see, that chart shows the adjustments made to the machine to fix the food’s genetic makeup so it won’t affect your body anymore.”

You nodded as if you understood the chart, though it may as well have been written in jibberish for all you understood. “Alright, new topic. I never once questioned whether I could even get pregnant. I just want to know now, is it possible?”

Velocity’s face scrunched up awkwardly, and when she spoke, it was with great hesitation, “Shouldn’t uh- Shouldn’t Swerve be here for this?”

“Yeah, and if there are options, I’ll invite him to the next meeting, but if there’s no chance at all then I don’t want him to get hurt. Please, just tell me if it’s possible to do this naturally. If not, I’ll talk with him about other options, like maybe adoption or something. I just need a few quick answers now.”

Ratchet took the lead once again, bringing up another chart that you didn’t really understand. “This is what you humans would call our ‘DNA’ in a sense. If we look at yours,” he changed the image, “It is completely different. Because of that, you would think a genetic hybrid wouldn’t be possible, but if we zoom in like so, you’ll see the uh, is it ‘_genes_’ you humans call them? Anyway, it’s uh, well-”

Velocity jumped in, “Because of our ability to transform, we think it might be possible to sort of mould human DNA to ours, creating a baby that you can either grow in your organic manner or use an incubator for. There’s still lots of unexplored possibilities but ultimately, whether you wish to go human, Cybertronian, or a mix, we believe that it is possible for you to have a sparkling- uh child.”

“Right,” Ratchet agreed. “However, before we discuss this further, you will need to bring Swerve to the next meeting so he can hear any options and ethical concerns. Are we clear?”

You started walking backwards to the doorway, giddy the entire time, “You got it, I’ll go discuss this with him now. Thanks guys.”

Velocity almost bounced happily at your reaction. “Happy anniversary,” She called.

You jumped on your hover-board, giving her and Ratchet a quick thumbs up. Once out of sight, you texted Swerve that you were on your way to meet him; when the two of you were alone, you would tell him everything.

* * *

Swerve stood outside the bar doors waiting for you in eager anticipation. He couldn’t believe his luck. No meeting with Ultra Magnus was ever this short but somehow, you had managed it, and all for your anniversary.

Speeding around the corner, you jumped off your hover board, coming to a running stop beside Swerve.

“Ah, my Angel-snookums,” Swerve cooed.

“Pumpkin-pie!” You called to him, starting the age old game of ‘Who could come up with the sickliest pet-name first?’

“Angel dumpling coochy-boo.”

“Honey-bear-snicker-doodle.”

“Kitten whis-”

“UGH STOP IT, YOU’RE MAKING ME SICK,” Whirl complained from right beside you, sticking his face or lack-thereof between the two of you.

“You know Whirl, you didn’t have to run down here to tell us that,” You said tartly. “Where did you even come from anyway?”

“Don’t question me meat-sack, I appear from the night, summoned by your sickening antics with this glitch,” Whirl poked Swerve with a claw. “Every time the two of you start this contest, the world gets darker in the worst way.”

“Then stop listening.”

“Can’t do that Bone-bag. Every time you even so much think of doing this damn game, I’m gonna send you a servo and then you’ll know, you’ve caused a mech’s suffering.”

“Uh Whirl, that um-” Swerve searched for the right words. “That’s disturbing, and it’s kind of our anniversary so you know, can we uh-”

“HAVE A THREESOME?” Whirl hooked his arm around Swerve and you, staring intensely with his one optic. “I would, but once you fly this bird, you’ll never want to touch the ground again, and I can’t be tied down with such a grossly-cute couple. You’re a perversion of nature.” Whirl made an extra-loud sniffing noise, touching Swerve’s helm with his face-plate. “You smell like desperation though, so maybe one day.” Pushing the two of you back forcefully, Whirl glided backwards without looking away from you or blinking, “But it’s not today.”

Unlike Swerve, you weren’t at all disturbed by what had happened. “What a nice sentiment from Whirl, so sweet as usual.”

For once unsure of what to say, Swerve transformed, opening his passenger-side door for you. When you got in, you saw the locket you had gifted him during your wedding. Normally, it was safely tucked into one of his sub-spaces, but when he transformed, it dangled from his rear-view mirror, a small reminder of your love.

Driving swiftly away, he took you to the swimming pool that had been built with you in mind. You let yourself out, giving Swerve room to transform while you admired the decorations he had placed around the room.

“Just like our honeymoon to the beach,” You observed, though in reality it looked nothing like the beach the two of you had pestered Megatron to let you visit.

The beach you had visited had a purple ocean that reflected the dark sky above. Fires had been lit around huts made out of giant shells, resting on sand of the brightest orange; in short, it was one of the most beautiful paces you had ever seen.

In front of you was a path made of towels leading to a picnic blanket that covered about a handful of sand that poked out from the sides. The blanket had two make-shift coconut cups filled with whatever cocktail Swerve had invented now, one for you, and an energon equivalent for him. Despite the glaring fluorescent lights and the meagre attempt at the decorations, you knew that if you had to choose between the perfect beach and this, you would choose this every time; something imperfect but made for you was far more personal than one beautiful place that everyone got to see. Besides, it didn’t matter what you had in front of you anyway, because in three-cycles there was going to be another planet for the ship to refuel at, and clearly the whole crew was excited for it.

Swerve took your hand, leading you to the picnic blanket. “Can you believe it?” He gushed, sitting you down, and then taking his place beside you. “You know, Rung told me to stop obsessing over you once. Joke’s on him, we’ve made it a whole year, because you are the sweetest, coolest, best wife in the galaxy, and for some reason you go for idiot couch-potatoes like me.”

“Hey,” You leaned in close to him, watching him with alluring eyes. “No more self-depreciating talk or I’ll never kiss you again.”

Swerve flushed pink, enchanted as usual by the way you were with him. Since day one as a couple you called him out on the way he put himself down, constantly reminding him that he would always be _enough_.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll try harder, I promise.”

“Good.”

He handed you your drink, ready to talk about anything and everything that came to mind, knowing that you were the one person who could and would listen to him for hours, even during his crazy-rambling.

“I’ve gotta know-” He paused to hand you your drink which you sipped cautiously before deciding it wasn’t as deadly as some of his other cocktails and taking a hearty gulp. “How did you escape Magnus so early?”

“Ah,” You smiled sheepishly, “About that… I lied, I didn’t see Magnus.”

Swerve’s countenance changed to that of concern.

“Okay, don’t panic but I went to see Ratchet and Velocity.”

“WHAT?!” Swerve grabbed your arms, fearing the worst. Maybe he should tell you about the minicon body now in case your fragile human body was already failing. “ARE YOU SICK? IS IT A VIRUS? IS THERE A CURE? WHAT DID RATCHET-”

“SWERVE! I SAID DON’T PANIC!”

Swerve fell silent, awaiting an explanation.

“Okay, so I went to see about well- I um thought I might have been pregnant.”

Swerve’s face went slack, a look of utter shock taking over.

“But, I was wrong babe, I’m sorry. Anyway, I talked with Ratchet and Velocity for a while and uh… Ultimately, they said that if we want and if we’re ready for discussions, they think they can help us have a baby. Uh, Swerve? Swerve?” You waved your hand in front of him, growing somewhat concerned when he didn’t respond. “See, I knew I should have said it better. I had it planned in my head and everything. I mean, we’ve talked about it before but- was it too soon? Have I scared you, is that it?”

While you fell into nervous rambling, Swerve’s mouth turned into the widest smile possible, “I’m going to be a creator?! We are going to be creators! Primus, we’ve got so much to plan. I wonder about the science- No wait, we’ll leave that to Ratchet and Velocity. What about names? Should we go with Cybertronian or human? I always liked Chandler obviously but is it too _out there_?”

“So, you’re okay with this?” You asked anxiously.

“Okay? OKAY! (Y/N), I love you. I love our future family. I love-”

You threw yourself at Swerve, smashing your lips against his ecstatically. When you drew back, he looked dazed, his visor flashing somewhat mischievously.

“Yep, I get it,” He croaked, trying to play it cool. “Why wait when we can try again right here right now?”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are Mr (L/N)?” You teased.

“The Devil’s Tango. Yes I am.”

Had there been any time to laugh at the name you would have, but the Swerve you knew was gone, replaced by his holo-form. You didn’t question it, for he often used his holo-form now for your more intimate nights and you knew he liked to fantasize about what life might have been like if he ad met you like this on Earth.

You tweaked his glasses playfully, “I think we’ll leave these on tonight, they make you look mysterious.”

Swerve blushed happily, “Did you bring the cute underwear?”

“Why don’t you search me and find out?”

Swerve didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped his hand down your pants, rubbing his hand lovingly over your ass while he kissed you. You arched your back so he had a better reach, and sucked his tongue until he moaned into your mouth.

You played with the edge of his Hawaiian shirt, speaking between kisses. “I want you to put a baby in me… Or, y’know, I guess it could just be _you_ in me for a while.”

You reached down to stroke him through the material of his shorts, and Swerve hissed between his teeth as his pants became tight, restricting his boner. “Why you always gotta say things like that? You make it so hard not to overload.”

“You can overload,” You whispered into his ear, sucking the lobe afterwards. “After all, I know from experience that you can go all night, several times.”

Swerve licked his lips anxiously. Somehow you always found a new way to make him nervous; it was exhilarating. Before he could come up with a response, witty or otherwise, he found you flipping him onto his back, your hands by his sides and your knee between his legs.

Tantalisingly, you lifted the hem of his shirt so you could kiss a trail sown his lower stomach, until you reached then tent in his shorts.

“(Y/N),” he breathed.

Slowly, you used your teeth to drag down the zipper, only using your hands to remove the shorts afterward. Swerve sat up mainly because he couldn’t stand to lie still any longer, but partially to strip you of your own clothes.

He found a brand new lacy lilac bra and panties underneath, though the panties were crotchless and he could see your dripping cunt at the centre.

“Primus,” Swerve whimpered. You hooked your arm around his neck, kissing him fervently, and groaning as he reached down to stroke your glistening folds.

“Screw the foreplay,” You growled. “I’m too fucking horny for that.”

Swerve mumbled agreement, sinking into you and gasping as he did so. He was so distracted by the many events of the day that his movements were wild and erratic, losing any rhythm or pattern he usually had. It was a wild ride for you to keep up with and you couldn’t stop crying out his name in the beautiful symphony of sex and love.

Swerve was practically hypnotised by the movements of your breasts that matched each thrust of his cock into you.

He heard your voice in his head. ‘_You can overload. I know from experience that you can go all night._’ How had you said it so casually? More to the point, how had he won you over into a relationship where he could have you all night?

“I love you,” He whimpered. His cock twitched and he knew he was going to overload soon. He reached out, pinning your wrists down as he rode you, always repeating the same refrain. “I love you.”

You bit your lip, rasping his name. “Swerve,” You writhed. “Oh fuck, I- You make me ah, shit~ You make me the happiest ah~ Wo-woman in the world.”

You threw your head back, breathing sharply, as you climaxed. Swerve overloaded mere seconds after, filling you up. He didn’t withdraw however. Instead he rested momentarily, the two of you breathing hard, though technically, Swerve didn’t have to breathe. Once sufficiently rested, Swerve started up again, fucking you with a new determination. Somehow, he was going to be a creator, and the idea of that turned him on; all other plans were out the window, he knew he would fuck you all night long.


	2. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Swerve grinned at his holo-form’s reflection, enjoying the winter look he’d just added. It was finally time for a visit to the next planet, Enpluam. The planet itself was said to be something of a winter wonderland, and as such, all of the crew had been ordered to adapt their holo-forms to have warm clothing so none of the natives got suspicious.

Swerve’s smile faltered as he caught sight of you behind him, failing to hide your frown. He spun around, suddenly insecure about his new outfit. “You don’t like it?”

You held up your hands defensively, “No, no, I love it, it’s just-” You shook your head, smiling instead, “It’s nothing.”

Swerve hugged himself self-consciously, “Please (Y/N), if you don’t like it… If you don’t like me-”

“_Swerve_,” You almost hissed, hurt by his suggestion. “It’s not your outfit, I love it. I love _you. _I just- I don’t understand why all these stupid bloody planets have to hate Cybertronians so much. I get that the war was horrible but it’s over now, it should be entirely up to you whether you want to go as a Cybertronian or not.”

Swerve reached out to caress your cheek lovingly, “(Y/N), it’s alright. We’re used to it. Besides, you know how much I like playing dress-up.”

You had to smile at the joke. Using it as an opportunity to change from your previously bitter thoughts about how Cybertronians were treated, you replied, “Yeah, well maybe you can dress up as a doctor tonight. I can think of a few places you haven’t examined on me yet.”

Swerve blushed, his vocaliser crackling with static like it always did when he was flustered. He swore to himself that one day, he would have a witty retort for your seductive comments.

You pecked his cheek, “Better not make that sound on-planet, or they’ll see right through you’re disguise.”

“Yeah,” Swerve finally managed to laugh, though he was already planning a doctor outfit in a sub-folder of his processor which he aptly named ‘_Dr Sexy cosplay._’ “You looking forward to this planet?”

“I will be if you tell me what you’ve been planning.”

Swerve became rigid, “Plan- Uh planning? I- I haven’t been planning-”

You smiled knowingly, “Oh I _know_ you’ve got something up that parka sleeve of yours Swerve. You’ve been quiet this week, so I know you’ve been hiding something. Want to tell me what it is now or save it for later? I promise I’ll act surprised if you do.”

There wouldn’t be much acting involved when Swerve told you about the mini-con shell he’d had built for you, he was sure about that. Swerve knew he had promised himself that he would tell you this week about his plans for you, but now the moment had been laid in front of him and he was too anxious to say anything. He’d planned to tell you on the icy planet below after taking you on the perfect date, which would hopefully serve as a reminder of how much he loved you so that you wouldn’t leave him after the news. He needed that extra time to tell you, and it would only be one cycle’s difference.

“Can you wait one more cycle?” He asked solemnly.

You raised your eyebrows, “Oh, a serious tone? Must be important.”

You pulled his hand towards yours, hooking your little finger around his own, “I pinkie-promise that I can wait one more day.”

Swerve vented a sigh of relief and pulled you into a hug which somehow felt less intimate than the silliness of the pinkie-promise. “Good. Great. One more day, and you’ll know.”

While you laughed, Swerve felt nauseated. Sure, you would know what he had been planning for over a year, but would you still love him afterwards. 

* * *

The alarm beeped incessantly and you shot up unusually quickly from your sleep. “I’M UP! I’M AWAKE… I’m regretting setting this so damn early.”

Swerve couldn’t help laughing at your owl-eyed expression as you stumbled from the berth, barely keeping your balance when you landed. He hadn’t slept that night, not needing to as often as you did, but he had stayed with you because you made him promise to, though you’d neglected to tell him why.

“We’ve got a few hours before we get there you know,” He told you. “You can sleep a little-”

“No,” You said, running to the bathroom to shower. “No time. You and me have to be the first off this ship.”

“Loving the enthusiasm, but that’s usually me. The last time I woke you up this early, you threatened to petrol-bomb my bar.”

“MOLOTOV!” You yelled from behind the shut bathroom door. “I THREATENED TO MOLOTOV YOUR BAR. NO PETROL HERE. HAS TO BE BOOZE.”

“All the same, why the early wake-up?”

“Megatron and Ultra Magnus.”

“Sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G?”

“No.” You came from the bathroom dripping wet and wrapped in a towel that had Brainstorm’s face printed on it, blowing a kiss without his mouth-plate. You shook your head energetically, “Not kissing. Yelling. At me specifically. Before we go to any planet, they pull me aside and give me a lecture like I’m a kid. Don’t mention Cybertron, (Y/N). Don’t start a bar-fight with Whirl (Y/N). Don’t eat that weird fruit (Y/N), it could kill you. You don’t get any of those talks.”

“Okay, but in their defence, you did do all of those things on the last planet we went to.”

“Hey, first off, that dude should not have been listening, it was a private conversation and I could have been saying that Cybertron sucks for all he knew. Second, _Whirl_ started that fight, after he dropped his holo-form and locked me in his cockpit, so that wasn’t me. And third, that fruit-guy said it was a grape and it looked just like one, how was I supposed to know it wasn’t one? Besides, I was with Velocity and she managed to save me so no harm, no foul.”

“Wow…You’re so cute when you’re irritated. Like a tiny chipmunk whose sole-purpose is to defy Dave in his quest to become the best singing Chipmunk of all.”

“Bite me,” You growled, walking into your wardrobe, looking for winter gear.

“Gladly, just take off that towel and I’m sure I can find a spot,” Swerve replied smoothly, glad he had the chance to be the cool one for once.

Stepping out of the wardrobe momentarily to tease him, you lowered the towel giving him a bit of a show. He wolf-whistled and you had to laugh, before changing into your clothes and attempting to speed dry your hair. Once you were ready, you were happy to find that Swerve had transformed into his alt-mode and was waiting to drive you to the hangar doors where the two of you would hopefully be the first to get off the ship.

* * *

In a crowd of disguised Cybertronians, you and Swerve found it easy enough to bypass Ultra Magnus and Megatron who were clearly looking for you. The second the hangar doors opened, the two of you ran outside hand in hand, laughing as fresh snow crunched underfoot.

“You know they’re going to talk your ears off when we get back,” Swerve said.

You shrugged, admiring the view of the icy covered town below, underneath a dark purple sky. “Who cares? Right now, all that matters is that the town is down there, it’s just you and me and… I’m in front.”

Swerve didn’t have a chance to respond as you started running down the hill towards the town, cheating in a race he wasn’t prepared for. His mouth stretched into a wide smile, ‘_Joke’s on her, I don’t run out of breath._’

Despite that thought, you put up a good fight, almost beating him to the bottom before some snow gave way underfoot and you fell the rest of the way down.

“(Y/N)!” Swerve called frantically, catching up to you.

Although you were shocked by the fall, it didn’t stop you from laughing as you got up and wiped the snow off your clothes.

“Are you okay?” Swerve asked, grabbing your arms to check if you were alright and breathing a sigh of relief when he was sure you weren’t injured; for something so soft and squishy, humans certainly were resilient.

“I’m fine, but you’re not.”

“What-”

You shoved a handful of snow in his face and continued running.

“Oh, you can run but you can’t hide,” Swerve called, chasing after you.

There was plenty more time for fun and games as the two of you explored the world in the little time you had. Every so often, you would be reminded just how cruel the universe could be when you saw signs that warned against non-organics, but Swerve would quickly shrug it off and draw your attention to something else.

Finally, after exploring icy caverns, tasting new foods that didn’t spark any allergic reactions, watching a few of the locals, delighting in a spot of star-gazing, and generally experiencing things you never could have back on Earth, it was time to head back to the ship. Although Swerve was ready to finally tell you about the mini-bot shell, he opted to wait until he could take you to it so you could ask Perceptor and Brainstorm any questions that he might not be able to answer. There was a countdown on his visual feed that was a reminder of how long he had left in his promise to tell you; it was a relief knowing it would be gone by that night.

You walked hand in hand with Swerve through the cobble-stoned streets of the town, on your way back to the Lost Light.

“I just don’t get it,” Swerve grumbled. “How did you find that comedian funny? He was terrible.”

You thought of the comic who was in some kind of talent show by a sculpture of a frozen fountain. Then in a low voice so nobody would overhear, you said, “It’s an organic thing. Face it sweetie, you just wouldn’t get that kind of humour.”

“Fine. You just wait till we get back to our room, I’m going to find you some of Cyber- Uh, my home’s comedians,” He corrected as you crossed paths with another family. “Then we’ll see if you get my kind’s humour.”

You chuckled at his stubbornness, stopping when the two of you came to a short bridge that had three men on it. Two were human, the other was some kind of rock-like humanoid. Swerve tried to lead you on but you held onto his hand tightly, tugging him back. You knew what drunks looked like when you saw them, and the trio in front of you were clearly intoxicated.

“We should find another way back,” You whispered, unsettled.

“(Y/N), this is the fastest way back, trust me,” Swerve said, confident that after owning his own bar, he could navigate his way through a few overcharged organics.

Although you were still uneasy, you placed your trust in your husband and let him guide you towards the bridge. Upon seeing the two of you, the humans jeered. A sound like rocks being ground together let you know the other organic was doing the same.

“Oy, oy, lookee what we have here. Ain’t this a charmin’ pair?” A red headed man, with an almost blue tinted face from the cold chuckled.

“Alright gents,” Swerve grinned confidently. “Mind if we pass? Our ship’s leaving soon.”

“Oooh, is it now? You hear that Darren? Their ship’s leaving soon.”

Darren, the other human, an unremarkable man with a pock-marked face stepped forward, “I did hear. I also heard when he called us gents. I’m not a gent, are you a gent Al?”

“I don’t think I am. Nor is our mate here. He ain’t got the stones to be a gent.”

All three of them laughed at the awful pun, apparently finding it hilarious in their inebriated state. You felt your heart start beating faster, and once again you tried to pull Swerve away. This time he complied, realising his mistake in approaching the group.

“Nah!” Al called. “Don’t go, we was only having a laugh. Right lads?”

“Swerve!” You cried as the rock man grabbed Swerve and pulled him back for Al and Darren to mock.

“Listen guys, we’re all people here,” Swerve started to babble in his overly-friendly way. “We don’t have to fight and- oof-”

Darren punched Swerve’s stomach and Swerve doubled over in pain that he wouldn’t have felt outside of his holo-form, falling to the floor when the rock man dropped him.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM,” You screamed, running in front of Swerve.

“(Y/N), no,” Swerve groaned, trying to stand up.

“Aw look, he’s fond of his lass,” Darren laughed.

“Aye,” Al sneered, “I’m fond of her too. Tell you what, we’ll just take her and leave, yeah? Then you won’t miss your ship, will you, Swerve? Stupid fuckin’ name.”

The rock man reached past his human companions to lift you up over his shoulder, and you screamed in outrage, punching, kicking, hissing, doing anything possible to free yourself. Upon seeing you in danger, defending him of all things, Swerve snarled. Disobeying all the rules, he freed himself of his holo-form and mass displacement.

“THAT’S MY WIFE!” He roared in all his robotic glory, slapping Darren and Al to the floor.

The rock man, apparently panicked by the sight of a non-organic, dropped you and fled back into the town.

“(Y/N)!” Swerve rushed to your side and held you close, checking you for injuries. “Are you alright?”

While Swerve fussed over you, Al pushed himself up to stare in mute disgust at the scene of pure love before him. An organic and a non-organic married? It was an abomination that made him glad he hadn’t had his way with you.

‘_Spoilt goods,_’ He thought cringing as you and Swerve walked away from the fight, if it could be called that.

Abhorred and repulsed by you, Al decided to make the universe a better place. “Fuckin’ robo-whore,” He whispered, reaching into his belt for his pistol.

Just one headshot and it would all be over. Drunk as he was however, Al would not have made a headshot in a million years.

“You were right,” Swerve said, shaking his head and holding you close. “We should have never crossed that bridge.”

You didn’t say anything but you did gasp and lurch forwards as a bang erupted from behind you. Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. Swerve screaming. You looked down to your jacket, finding that it had changed from white to red. You tried to speak but couldn’t. Darkness kept clouding your vision. You were on the snow. Light again and you were in Swerve’s alt-mode. Darkness. You opened your eyes to find Ratchet and Velocity hovering over you.

You could hear Swerve shouting something, though you couldn’t see him.

“-NEW BODY- PERCEPTOR & BRAINSTORM- SINCE THE WEDDING-”

The next time darkness overtook you, you didn’t wake up for a long time, and as Ratchet and Velocity hung over you, they wondered if you ever would again.


	3. Whispers in the Silence

As a rule, the Lost Light was a ship that prided itself on noise, adventure and laughter, but with you in sick bay, under the careful operation of three medics and two scientists, the ship held nothing but a deep and terrible silence. It didn’t matter that Swerve was quietly sobbing outside the operating theatre; the ship was still a static void in which no sound mattered.

If you were beside him, Swerve knew you would make the best of such a situation, probably saying something like, ‘_Huh, I guess in space, nobody _can_ hear you scream. Who’d’ve guessed?_’

When Swerve was in the operating theatre all that time ago, you left him a message to listen to until he got back. He had listened to it over seventy-two times while you were in the medics’ servos, if only to hear your voice again. Primus, it wasn’t fair! Swerve couldn’t leave you a message because you weren’t Cybertronian, and worse than that, he wasn’t even allowed to be in the same room as you because Ratchet had thrown him out when he started to get in the way.

Swerve looked up when he heard a door open, but it wasn’t the operating theatre, it was only the waiting room entrance that led to the decks. Tailgate waved awkwardly at Swerve, soon lowering his servo out of respect. He and Cyclonus simply made their way to the right-hand wall and left two small vials of their innermost energon before leaving to stand with the bots in the corridor; that made exactly ninety-seven vials of innermost energon thus far. Swerve was glad that none of the others tried talking to him upon leaving their energon; for once, he was in no mood to talk. He also appreciated that the bots outside were staggering their queue times in leaving their innermost energon. One or two bots would come in every half hour or so to leave their vials, and before the day was through, Swerve was sure there would be almost two-hundred vials for you. It seemed everyone loved you, almost as much as he did.

Another round of sobbing racked Swerve’s body. He pulled out his locket with your hair in it, clutching it close to his spark, as if it might will you back to full health. The two of you had only been married one year, how could the universe be so cruel as to threaten that so soon?

“_Swerve?_”

Swerve shook his head, as a memory of your voice surfaced, followed closely by a visual feed of the event in his processor’s optic.

* * *

“(Y/N)?” Swerve beamed, repeating your confused tone, even though he was well-aware of what you were going to ask.

“I um- I know we said we were going to re-decorate the hab-suite, but why… why does it look like the friends set?”

“You don’t like purple?” He asked all too innocently.

You jumped as a laugh-track played aloud, “Oh my God…. You didn’t. Swerve, tell me you didn’t add a laugh track to the apartment.”

Swerve looked far into the background, winking at nothing, “Maybe.”

The laughter briefly continued, only escalating when you face-palmed.

“Why are you like this?”

At that, Swerve only chuckled and splashed you with paint, triggering the first of what he hoped would be many paint fights along your life together.

* * *

Coolant sprung from Swerve’s optics and he choked out another sob. That memory was from April Fool’s Day and he had re-decorated the apartment with you properly the day after. Swerve prayed to both Primus and every deity he knew of on Earth that you would come out of this okay and that he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of his mistake forever.

He needed you. Couldn’t the universe see that? He needed you to reassure him that everything would be okay. He needed you to come in the bar every day and lean over to kiss him, no matter what anyone else muttered under their breaths about him. He needed you to waylay the fears and doubts from his mind that he wasn’t good enough.

More than that, he wanted to be there for you as-well.

“_(Y/N)! ARE YOU SICK? PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG!_”

Swerve scrunched his optics shut as another memory hit him like a tonne of bricks.

* * *

You were curled up in pain, hugging yourself and groaning. You forced yourself to shake your head, shuddering as you breathed out slowly. “Shark week,” You winced.

“SHARK WEEK?” Swerve cried. You had already forewarned him of this, but he didn’t think it would hurt you so badly. Hurriedly, he ran to your tiny cupboards, bringing out extra blankets, a two-litre bottle of water, several boxes of pills (one of which surely had to be the right one), a large bar of synthetic chocolate, and a heat pad. After you mentioned shark week the first time to him, Swerve had visited Ratchet to learn what would help you and Ratchet had given him these supplies.

“Which do you need?” Swerve asked frantically.

You could tell he was about to go into full-blown panic mode, as he usually did when he first encountered some new experience of organic life that he hadn’t seen before. Before you were married, you had generally avoided him when this happened to save him from any embarrassment, but now the two of you were married, you knew he wouldn’t be awkward about organic matters; well, not _that_ awkward anyway.

Sitting up slowly, you took a few sips of water, smiling when the nausea passed, “Good job sweetie. I’m all better now.”

Swerve pointed an accusatory finger at you, “No! that’s your placating smile, not your happy smile. Tell me the truth, do you need Ratchet? Are you still in pain? If so, how much pain? Should I get Rodimus to stop on a nearby planet? I could-”

For once, you left Swerve to rant on, while you simply went to sleep. In retrospect, that wasn’t your best idea as he gasped and sped of to the medical bay, dragging Ratchet back with him, but honestly you were too tired at the time to answer his questions. After giving you the once-over, Ratchet gave Swerve a stern-talking to about heeding his research into humans before wasting his time.

“If (Y/N) says she’s fine, she’s fine,” Ratchet glowered, walking out of the hab-suite. “Next time, listen to her before you come to me.”

Swerve chewed his lip anxiously, before approaching you again. Now you were well-rested, you were sat under a blanket with the heating pad over your stomach.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

“With you to take care of me? Always.”

* * *

Swerve stared at the operating theatre door. That was the problem; he wasn’t there for you now. Granted, Swerve was smarter than most bots gave him credit for, but he wasn’t a doctor or a scientist. He didn’t have healer’s hands. He was a barman. Why in Primus’ name had you married him instead of somebody useful? You could have been with somebody who listened to you when you told him not to cross that bridge. You could have been with someone who hadn’t got you shot.

The hall door swished open again and Rung came quietly in to leave his innermost energon. He looked like he wanted to say something to Swerve, perhaps even comfort him, but he knew the protocol was to stay quiet when somebody's Conjunx Endurae was in in fate’s servos. Swerve could have invited him over, giving Rung permission to comfort him. After all, Rung was almost like a creator to you, but quite frankly, Swerve didn’t think he deserved to be comforted when all of this was his fault.

“_What are you doing married to Swerve anyway? Don’t you know there are better mechs onboard this ship?_”

* * *

Swerve could hear the cheesy 70’s music playing in his bar as if it was yesterday. He had briefly left you to grab some supplies from the back but when he heard Getaway say that, he remained hidden, knowing it was wrong to listen in on you like this, but needing to hear your response all the same.

“Please don’t talk about my husband that way,” You said, giving the overcharged mech a chance to back off and apologise before you ripped into him.

“Come on, he’s not even here right now,” Getaway guffawed, admittedly somewhat jealous that you loved Swerve instead of him, even though the two of you had hardly spoken before; Getaway always coveted that which he did not have. “He won’t hear what you really think about him.”

‘_If only that were true_,’ Swerve thought, though he still continued to eavesdrop.

“I mean, who would really notice if you and I just kind of slipped away right now to have some fun. You’ve got to have wondered what it would be like with another, more charming mech right?”

Swerve gulped, sure he was going to purge his tanks out of nervousness. He knew for a fact that most mechs considered Getaway to be charming and none considered him to be.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully. “You’re really good at sex?”

Swerve fell against the wall, wanting to claw out his audials, but frozen in place as the conversation continued.

“The best.”

“Good, then go fuck yourself, and never _ever _talk about my husband like that again. Swerve is ten times the mech you are.”

Giddy elation filled Swerve up and he rushed out from the supply closet, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He could have waited a little bit longer to compose himself, but he was afraid Getaway might be just overcharged enough to hurt you if you injured his pride any more than you already had. Getaway left irately and you turned your attention to Swerve who pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

“What’s his problem?” Swerve asked casually, though he could hardly keep the giggle out of his vocaliser.

You shrugged, “Small man syndrome.”

“Huh? Okay, whatever you say, (Y/N).”

* * *

Before any more memories could torture him, the med-bay door finally opened and Ratchet stepped out, looking grimmer than ever. Swerve wanted to blurt out a million questions, but fearing for your life and knowing every second counted, he waited through the agonising seconds for Ratchet to speak.

“I have sent the medical team into the back so you and (Y/N) can spend some time alone, but I hope you are ready to face the consequences of what you have done Swerve. The lies you’ve told her – to everyone on this ship – will not go unnoticed.”

Swerve swallowed fearfully, “But she’s alive? She’s going to be alright?”

Ratchet considered the question before answering, “Physically, yes. Mentally however… Only time will tell. If you will excuse me, I’m going to join my team in med-bay two, where we will wait until you are ready.”

Swerve waited momentarily for Ratchet to back-track though the medical bay; it gave him a few minutes to compose himself and think of what he would say when he saw you. Then, forgetting his composure, he ran into the medical bay, stopping short when he saw you, in your new Cybertronian body. He knew there was a chance this would happen, but he had told Perceptor and Brainstorm to wait until they were sure your organic body couldn’t be saved.

Swerve looked to the bed across from you, where a sheet covered the corpse of your previous organic body. Why hadn’t he immediately told you about the mini-bot shell he’d had made? If he had, he knew the conversation ahead would be easier. All the same, your optics were offline and Swerve knew by instinct that Ratchet and the others had left them off to give him the chance to explain before you saw yourself.

Before he approached you, he took a few silent steps over to the organic corpse. He held the corner of the sheet that covered it, hesitating before he lifted it to look into your cold dead eyes. He needed to see this, to burn it into his memory of what his mistakes brought on. Granted, your mind and memories were still alive, but this mess of a cadaver that had been stitched up by servos inexperienced with organics, that still had patches of dried blood caked around the sealed wound, was his cross to bear.

Finally, when he could look at it no longer, Swerve covered the corpse with a sheet again, and moved to your side.

“(Y/N),” Swerve whispered.

You moved your head frantically to your left where he was standing, “SWERVE?! I- I CAN’T SEE- I CAN’T-”

Swerve grabbed your servo, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m going to explain everything. What- What do you remember?”

You went quiet for a long time, thinking back to the bridge. Almost silently, you spoke, “I was shot.”

Swerve nodded affirmation, speaking aloud when he remembered you couldn’t see, “Yeah… That was it. (Y/N), I’m so, so sorry this happened to you. It was all my fault. I never should have put you through that. Uh- (Y/N), the docs here, they’ve been working on you for a really long time.”

“Swerve… Am I blind?”

“No sweetheart, that’s only temporary, I promise you’re not blind.”

“Then are you- are you in holoform? You hand feels so small, but it doesn’t feel like skin. Swerve, what’s wrong with me? Nothing feels right. I don’t feel real. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel all wrong inside.”

“Yeah, about that… (Y/N), I need to tell you something… Something I should have told you when we got married, and I need you to listen okay.”

“Okay,” You shivered, and coolant leaked from your offlined optics.

Swerve pressed his helm to your servo. “From the moment we wed, I was so scared something like this might happen… That you’d get hurt and I’d lose you. So, I had Perceptor and Brainstorm work on something, a- a new body of sorts. I- I was scared that you would think I was trying to change you, so I didn’t warn you about it, but now- Well, now you’re different.”

“Swerve,” You whimpered, “You’re not making sense.”

“I know… (Y/N), I’m going to sort out your eyes, make them work right, y’know. Please trust me, okay?”

It seemed you weren’t focusing on what he was saying, as you groaned, “My head hurts.”

Swerve sighed solemnly, then opened your head panel to reveal your processor. From there, he connected the wire that would allow you normal control of your optics. As your optics flickered to life, you caught a reflection of yourself and Swerve in the chrome wall across from you. Your previously human mind tried and failed to connect with the newer faster Cybertronian processor. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Swerve had his servos inside your head and all you could feel was numbness where you should have felt pain. Everything from your past and present crashed together in a way you couldn’t handle. Then, you screamed.


	4. The New You

Swerve sat tight lipped in the boardroom, surrounded by the newly found ethics committee who were discussing his actions regarding you. Rodimus, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, Drift, Rung, and Ratchet were to decide what punishment best suited a crime of this nature.

Quite frankly, Swerve didn’t care what this newfound committee did to him. All he cared about was returning to you in your time of need. Ever since you woke up screaming, you had been placed under sedation. Evidently, it would take some time for your human mind to integrate with your new Cybertronian body. When Swerve had proposed the idea of a new body, Perceptor and Brainstorm had warned him about the possible repercussions, but he had trusted their combined intellect over any statistical probability of things going wrong.

As it was, Brainstorm and Perceptor were both under house arrest until the ethics committee had time to decide what to do with them as well.

“SWERVE!” Ratchet barked, making the mini-bot look up dolefully, “I ASKED IF YOU EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT THE RESULTS OF YOUR ACTIONS.”

“Oh…” Swerve frowned. “No, not really. Please Ratchet, is (Y/N) alright?”

“(Y/N)’s in the best servos available, Swerve,” Rung answered. “Please, focus on what we’re saying and answer our questions to the best of your ability. Were you ever planning on warning (Y/N) about this?”

“What does that matter?” Rodimus asked incredulously, his engines revving in frustration. “Face the facts, Swerve did what anybody else would have done to save a Conjunx. He saved her life, and she’ll be fine if we all just pull together and build up her psyche, right?”

Megatron hummed thoughtfully.

“You got something to say?”

“…No. I don’t think I have a place upon this ethics committee, considering my past choices.”

“Perhaps that is why you ought to speak up,” Ultra Magnus offered. “You have seen most clearly the line between right and wrong. Are you sure you do not wish to comment upon the matter?”

Megatron avoided Ultra Magnus’ gaze, and the matter was dropped.

Finally, Drift spoke up, “Has anybody considered the spiritual implications? As Cybertronians, we have Primus to put our faith in, and although I myself am not sure about (Y/N)’s spiritual beliefs, what if this affects her, now delayed, ascension to the afterlife?”

As an argument between Rodimus and Drift broke out, Ratchet tuned into the incoming call on his internal feed. “WHAT?!” He cried out.

All optics fell on him.

“Meeting’s over everyone. (Y/N) is missing from med-bay, and wherever she’s taken her old human corpse with her.”

Swerve immediately ran out of the room, beginning his search for you.

“HOW DID SHE EVEN WAKE UP?” He asked Ratchet through his comm-link as he transformed.

“It could be a myriad of reasons. I don’t know what kind of features Brainstorm and Perceptor added to her.”

Swerve cursed and tried to connect to your new internal communicator. The call came up as blocked, leading him to fear for your life. Before, he could have just lost you; now, he risked putting you through psychological torture as well as losing you.

Opening up the call to everyone he trusted, Swerve explained his plight, pleading with them at the end of the call. “Please guys… I lost her once, I can’t lose her again.”

It was Rodimus who answered first, “We’ve got your back Swerve. Wherever (Y/N) is, we’ll find her.”

* * *

Alone and scared in the dark, you hugged your previous human corpse to your chassis. You wanted somebody to tell you what to do, and yet you needed to be alone. Normal reasoning was not working anymore, and you only had enough sense to wonder whether this was what insanity felt like.

“Swerve,” You whimpered, unsure whether to love or hate him. “What have you done to me?”

Words started forming before your very eyes and you realised this was how some thoughts were going to appear on your internal feed, at least until you gained control of your new body.

‘_Repair damaged corpse._’

Coolant leaked from your optics, “I can’t.”

The writing dissolved into nothingness and new words appeared in their place, ‘_Dispose of corpse._’

“No…please God no.”

It seemed like the first thought had come from what remained of your fractured human mind, and the second from your new processor. Somewhere, deep down, you knew you were still who you used to be, yet it felt like parts of yourself were buried under the possibility of a new you.

Two new clashing thoughts wrote themselves before your visual feed, followed by an error message at the opposing opinions.

‘_UPLOAD PRECIOUS PERSONA_’ vs ‘_PURGE OLD PERSONA._’

‘_ERROR IN PROCESSING UNIT. INITIATING COOLDOWN SEQUENCE._’

You shuddered as air passed through your body. When you had seen mechs do this in the past, you had assumed it was like breathing, but it felt more like a ghostly apparition passing directly through you.

Was this your new life? Would your chest never rise and fall with the filling of real lungs? Granted, you could feel the steady thrum of your spark, but it was nothing like a human heartbeat.

Gently, you rested the corpse on your knees, squeezing your optics shut as if to remove the incoming words and thoughts. It didn’t work. Even through the darkness, your thoughts materialised before you, torturing you with their presence.

‘_Make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP. **MAKE IT STOP!**_’

Frustratedly, you pounded your servos against your helm in a clumsy attempt to stop the incoming feed. While you were doing that, the search for you grew ever more frantic.

* * *

Whirl casually approached the Rod Pod, opening the ramp and walking inside. Sure enough, there you were, curled up on the floor, the corpse beside you.

Whirl took a blanket out of his sub-space, wrapping the corpse as gently as he could inside it, “Thought I’d find you in here blood-bag… Huh, Guess I can’t call you that anymore.”

“Whirl?” You asked, confused ever since your optics had shut off shortly after your breakdown.

“Yeah… It’s me flesh stick.”

“How did you find me?”

Whirl sat down beside you, drawing you into his arms, “I can always find a hider, you ought to know that by now. Besides, I remember when those fraggers stole my face and servos… The first thing I wanted to do was hide.”

“How did you fix it, Whirl? Everything feels wrong. I can’t tell anymore- What part is human and what part is-”

“Hey, don’t think of it like that. You humans are gross, teeth literally fall out of you, but when another comes back, it’s all okay, isn’t it? You have to let the changes become you. It’ll hurt for a while, but maybe if you let the nerds help you, it won’t hurt anymore.”

“What if it doesn’t get better? What if it will always hurt?”

“Then I scrap everyone who took part in doing this to you.”

“Whirl, I can’t turn my eyes back on.”

“Alright, stay calm and just think of the light and everything you want to see. Better yet, think of how handsome I am, then you’ll get there.”

You felt air vent through you as if you were taking a deep breath, then after doing as instructed, your optics flashed on.

“There you go. Now, do you want me to radio the others and tell them where you are, or…?”

“Can you give me a few minutes. I- I don’t think I’m ready for the others yet.”

“You got it bone bag. Want me to take uh…” He gestured to the wrapped-up corpse.

You nodded, “Yeah, I don’t want to see that again.”

“Do you at least want me to tell Swerve that you’re okay?”

The question upset you. You vaguely remembered yelling various obscenities at Swerve between screaming when you woke up. He hadn’t deserved it, but you wanted to hurt him as much as you were hurting at the time. “I don’t- I need to see him myself Whirl. I was so horrible to him. I never thought I’d hurt him like that. It disgusts me… I disgust me.”

“We’re all hideous when we’re hurting. What really matters is that you’re feeling bad about it. You wanna make it up to the orange guy? Go back to him.”

You nodded, “Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna need a little bit longer to figure some things out… Cover for me?”

“You got it meat wad,” Whirl said, getting up and carefully taking the corpse with him.

After a few minutes of trying to assess your new body, you got up and decided to get a good look at it. You still felt fractured, but after the conversation with Whirl, it was almost like your mind was starting to heal, at least on reasoning anyway. At the driver’s seat of the Rod Pod, you could see yourself in the mirror Rodimus had installed for motivational speech practice.

“It’s not so bad,” You said aloud. “I wonder how I transform and drive this thing.”

“Drive sequence initiated,” The Rod Pod’s automatic computer said, sealing the doors and rumbling as it took off.

“WHAT?!” You squealed. “NO. HANG ON A MINUTE.”

“Hangar doors opening.”

“STOP CHANGING MY WORDS. STOP ENGINE. LET ME OUT. I HAVE TO GET TO SWERVE.”

“Ship taking off, course locked in.”

You banged your fists against the control panel, “DON’T YOU DARE TAKE OFF.”

“Take off confirmed. Please, sit back and enjoy the new autopilot, Captain Rodimus.”

“I’M NOT RODIMUS. LET ME OUT, RIGHT NOW, YOU ABSOLUTE HEAP OF- ARGHHHHHH,” You screamed as you were thrown forward by the ship’s hyperdrive. Fear overtook you while memories of the last time you were launched into space surfaced. Back then, you thought you were going to die. This time, you were afraid Swerve might, if he thought you had abandoned him.

In an attempt to fix the situation, you tried to use your internal communicator to call Swerve and leave a message for him. You cried his name, telling him that you were coming back, over and over again, and that you loved him; it was a message Swerve would never receive.

* * *

Swerve sobbed hideously on the floor of his hab-suite, holding one of your old shirts to his face. By now, everybody had seen the footage of the Rod Pod flying out of the hangar, with you at the helm, looking all manner of furious.

He should have told you about the body. He could have a million times over, and yet pure cowardice had held him back, and now you had left him. From the moment the two of you started a relationship, everyone had said it was doomed, but Swerve had dared to dream, and look where it had gotten him.

This time, Swerve was sure it was the end. As soon as he stopped crying, he knew he would finally end his life. He had attempted it before, multiple times, but this time would be different. He wouldn’t simply wait to waste away. This time, he would take the kill shot. One bullet to the processor ought to do it; one bullet would end the pain.

* * *

Whirl kicked at the brig door, roaring all manner of creative insults that should never be repeated. Of course that idiot Getaway would report him for stealing your corpse, and of course nobody would listen to him after he beat the hell out of Getaway for trying to take it away from him.

He had to get out and warn everyone that you hadn’t left the ship and that you were going to go back to Swerve, but how could he when the brig was soundproof? He didn’t know exactly what had happened, having only caught the beginning of the announcement before being apprehended, but he knew in his spark that you hadn’t left on purpose.

Either some kind of accident had happened, or something had forced you off the ship. One way or another, Whirl would get out and warn everybody about you. Well… There was only one way out of the brig and Whirl had never needed to do it, but he would now, for you. He had been your mech of honour, and that hadn’t changed just because your wedding was over.

Whirl glared at the only camera in the brig, knowing that it wasn’t constantly monitored, but that it was checked once or twice per cycle. Turning his pain receptors off, he retrieved a knife that he had hidden in the brig long ago for just such an occasion, and he stabbed himself in the chassis. It was an injury fatal enough to be noticed, but not so damaging that it would kill him. As an extra precaution in case he passed out, Whirl used his own energon to write on the walls.

_(Y/N) NOT GONE. SHIP TOOK OFF BY ACCIDE-_

Shock overcame Whirl as his vision faded. Evidently, he was wrong; he had hit something fatal, and unless someone checked the camera soon, he was going to die.


	5. I’m Sticking with You

Swerve sat at a table inside his hab-suite, holding a gun in his servo. It wasn’t fancy or large; it was little more than a pistol really, but it would do the job. He thought he’d feel something about his upcoming demise, but after spending all of his tears on you, there was nothing left to feel. Still, Swerve didn’t think he deserved a quick and painless death. That was why he was spending a short while re-watching his memories of you; it would help further twist the proverbial knife to cause a little extra pain.

“(Y/N), my dearest, my darling, my everything,” Swerve said to the paused memory that only he could see. “I always knew this day would come. I knew if we ever got together you would eventually learn that I was no good for you and that you would leave. Admittedly, I was being selfish when I married you. I hoped… I wish we could have had a bit longer together before you went away.”

He sighed, finding that he wasn’t out of tears for you as he previously thought he was. The coolant slipped unchecked down his cheek and Swerve continued his monologue, though his vocaliser was heavy with static as he did so.

“No matter what happens, or wherever I end up after this, I want you to know, I will always love you, even if you don’t love me anymore.”

With that, he played the memory he had been saving till last; it would be the last thing he saw before taking the fatal shot.

The memory was one of the many times that you had sang the Velvet Underground’s ‘_I’m Sticking with You._’

Swerve’s frame shook with his final tears. He couldn’t keep his servos steady as he lifted the pistol.

_‘Anything you want me too_

_I'll do anything for you_

_Oh, I'm sticking with you_

_Oh, I'm sticking with you_

_Oh, I'm sticking with you.’_

The song drew to an end and Swerve closed his optics. He held the pistol barrel to his helm, vented air through his systems and put his finger over the trigger.

* * *

Ultra Magnus ran to the holding cell. Only minutes ago, he had made a check on the security cameras, which was where he saw Whirl unmoving in a pool of his own energon; if he had ever thought Whirl to be suicidal, he would never have sent him to solitary confinement.

Slamming his palm against the cell’s scanner, he opened the door. He scanned Whirl, finding him alive, barely. Rushing to his aid, Ultra Magnus applied pressure to the stab wound whilst calling Ratchet and Velocity for medical assistance.

Fortunately, while Ultra Magnus was doing all that he could to save Whirl, he didn’t miss the giant note on the cell wall. His optics widened in surprise and he sent out an all-bot-alert to find out who was the closest to Swerve’s room. It was Chromedome who responded first, with a general message of curiosity.

Ultra Magnus thanked Primus that he had go in touch with one of the bots who knew just how important a Conjunx Endurae was.

“Chromedome, you must take this message to Swerve immediately. (Y/N) did not leave him intentionally. An accident must have caused the Rod Pod to malfunction. He needs to know.”

“What are you going to do?” Chromedome responded, concerned for your safety as he had been since the moment you left.

Ultra Magnus didn’t mention his priority to Whirl. Instead he simply answered, “Organise a rescue party. Now tell Swerve. Go!”

That was around ten minutes before Swerve picked up the gun that could end his life.

* * *

You pressed a servo to a dent in your helm, already regretting the damage that had come to your new body. Fortunately, it was mostly just scraped paint, but you still felt the occasional twinge of pain from another bump elsewhere. Then again, you felt you could live with a bit of minor damage to your systems. After the Rod-Pod crash-landed on the alien planet, you knew your previous human body would have died upon impact.

Orienting yourself, you stood up, feeling nauseous when the ship lurched forward. You stood as still as you could, waiting to see if it would make any more sudden movements. When you thought it was safe, you walked across the ceiling of the upside-down ship to the control panel.

“Ship,” You called, hoping it might respond. “Rod-Pod? If I say I’m Rodimus will you wake up please?”

The ship didn’t respond. You had hoped it might at least send out a warning or an error code or something, but it seemed completely destroyed. You didn’t even think there was any power left in it since the screen and lights were off.

You remained perfectly calm as you kicked at the ship’s entrance, taking a few goes before it broke open. You stumbled out into a desert comprised of fine white sand wherever you looked.

“Great, I couldn’t have landed in a city or near a town. No, I had to land on fucking Tatooine.”

‘_Ugh,_’ You thought dismally, ‘_More like discount Tatooine. At least real Tatooine had some buildings…somewhere._’

Still, you were Cybertronian now. Maybe somewhere in your brain was instructions to repair the Rod-Pod. You looked at the crashed ship, noting for the first time that the exterior was on fire. There was no way in hell you were repairing that.

Trying to hold onto your previous sense of serenity, you thought about how Whirl had taught you to bring your optics online during your previous panic attack. If making a call was anything like that, maybe you could call Swerve. You hoped you could. Not only were you in need of rescue from the desert planet, you also needed him to know you were sorry, that you still loved him, and most importantly, that you would get back to him, no matter what.

“If Marlin the fish can get his son from a dentist in Sydney, I can do this. Uh, body, call Swerve,” You commanded.

Nothing happened.

“Please, call Swerve?”

You closed your optics and pictured your old communicator as well as Swerve’s face. ‘_Please… I need him. Please don’t cut him out of my life._’

You grew both frustrated and upset when several more attempts at calling your husband didn’t work. What if it was the dent in your head causing interference? Or maybe you were too far away from Swerve for anything to happen? Was that possible? You had never thought to ask Swerve how his body worked; it had simply never come up in casual conversation. Suddenly a truly dreadful thought hit you. What if word of your departure had reached him already? He wouldn’t think you had left him, would he? He wasn’t the most stable bot at the best of times, and you knew the way his separation anxiety and fears of being inadequate could course him to self-destruct.

“CALL SWERVE!” You screamed at yourself, fearing for his well-being. “NOW! I- I need to know that he’s safe. Please…” You fell to your knees, crying and holding your head in your servos, “_Please,_ call Swerve.”

Once again you were left with nothing but the deafening silence that surrounded you on the barren planet, but you weren’t ready to give up. At least, you thought you weren’t until you heard the rumbling of engines. Looking to the horizon, you saw five vehicles that looked like quad-bikes in the distance, the riders of which were hidden under white body armour.

Venting air through your systems in a manner that simultaneously soothed you and freaked you out, you decided to take a long walk away from the Rod-Pod. You had heard tales of the scavengers that lived on barren planets. They had probably been travelling since you crashed, hoping to steal whatever was left over from the ship. Yet, as you moved further to the left, so did the bikes. You continued moving further away from the Rod-Pod, but the bikes changed course to match yours. You prayed that they were coming to your aid, yet as they got closer, you saw the giant crossbows come up from the vehicles subspaces.

If you were still human you would have broken into a sweat. As a Cybertronian you couldn’t do that, but you still had your fight and flight response to work with. You ran. Every so often, you would risk a look behind you, hoping that you would be able to scan one of the vehicles and transform. As with your earlier attempts to call Swerve, nothing happened when you tried to transform. The only thing you did find from occasionally looking back was that the organics chasing you weren’t actually wearing white body armour; they _were _the armour, so to speak. You supposed it had to be some kind of exoskeleton, stretched over long bony limbs that stuck hideously outwards.

You kept on running, putting all the power in your new legs into fleeing the monstrous organics. What had started off as the Star Wars experience had quickly turned into a bad remake of Mad Max: Fury Road.

You wished that having a Cybertronian body could have been as easy as having a human body, but apparently without instructions or a mentor, you were useless. You couldn’t call for help, you couldn’t transform, and worst of all, you couldn’t outrun your hunters. That much became clear as you saw them gaining in your peripheral view. What you didn’t see was the two quadbikes behind you aiming their crossbows for your arms, though you soon felt it. Screaming in pain, you fell to your knees.

Although it was probably futile, you fought the waves of searing hot pain, forcing yourself back up and facing off against your eerily silent attackers. You pulled against the barbed hook in your left arm, trying to remove it. However, no amount of brute strength could save you from the electrical charge that both crossbow bolts emitted, coursing through your systems to temporarily shut them down. This time, when you fell to the ground, you didn’t get back up, and the raiders were free to claim you as their prize.

* * *

Chromedome pelted down the hallway, making his way to Swerve to tell him the partially good news. He couldn’t wait to see Swerve’s face when he told him that you hadn’t left him and it was only going to be a matter of tracking the Rod-Pod’s trajectory to find you and bring you home to him.

Without even bothering to knock, Chromedome burst into Swerve’s hab-suite, shocked to find Swerve holding a gun to his own helm. As quickly as he had entered the room, Chromedome wrestled Swerve to the table, which wasn’t too difficult considering how much smaller Swerve was compared to Chromedome.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Chromedome yelled in a panic.

“GET OFF ME!” Swerve cried out in a mix of anger and pleading. “I NEED TO DO THIS!”

“NO, YOU DON’T. YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N).”

“DON’T! Don’t Mention her name please,” Swerve voice fell to a whisper and he stopped struggling against Chromedome, though he still reached for the gun which was only a short way from his grasp. “I failed her, Chromedome. I failed her and she hates me. My wife… My wife hates me.”

Chromedome had been to the emotional prison that Swerve was trapped in many times before. He had lost count of the amount of times that he had visited relinquishment clinics on Cybertron, preparing for the day he might snuff out his own spark. He knew from those experiences that Swerve wouldn’t just believe him if he told the truth about you. Instead, Swerve would think it was all an elaborate lie to stop him from ending his life. That left Chromedome with the problem of what to do.

Without thinking about it, Chromedome held Swerve down more firmly, releasing his mnemosurgery needles from the tips of his fingers. He told himself he was doing this for Swerve. After all, he was only planning to remove the memories of your departure until Swerve was in a safe place for him to explain everything. If Rewind was there, he would have told Chromedome that he was only doing it for himself, and that mnemosurgery was both addictive and evil; Primus knew they had had the argument enough times in the past, but if Rewind wasn’t around to see it, then it didn’t matter if Chromedome fell back into old habits and performed one _tiny_ memory rewrite, did it?

“What are you doing?” Swerve asked, feeling the panic rise inside him. He began struggling again, babbling as he did so, “Chromedome, did I hear a shunk? I distinctly heard a shunk. Was that your needles? You can’t rewrite my memories. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done. CHROMEDOME, I MEAN IT! DON’T YOU DARE CHANGE ME! DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Shhh,” Chromedome hushed the mini-bot in a tone that was supposed to be comforting but sounded only menacing to Swerve. “It’s all going to be all right. In a few minutes, it will all be over.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, followed by Rung’s soft voice, “Swerve, are you in there?”

Chromedome cursed and covered Swerve’s mouth. Seeing the needles that were to wipe his memories only made Swerve panic more, and he was afraid that he might purge his tanks, even if his mouth his covered.

Rung continued speaking, used to being met by the silence of his patients when they had been through something traumatic, “I was just finished with work today and I thought you might like some company.”

Throwing his head from side-to-side rapidly, Swerve managed to shake Chromedome’s servo loose, “HELP! HE’S GONNA RE-WRITE-”

Chromedome pushed Swerve’s helm into the table, and whispered in his audial-receptor, “_I’m helping you, idiot._”

But it was too late for Chromedome, Rung had heard enough in that cry for help and had used his all-access pass to enter the hab-suite. He took everything in, made a note to work with Chromedome to save him from his mnemosurgery surgery addiction, and called security all in the space of under a minute. For now, Swerve was safe and alive, though Swerve knew it wouldn’t be long before his second attempt to journey to the afterspark.

* * *

You woke up in a metal cell and you didn’t have to touch the bars to know they were electrified; evidently, you new body had better hearing than your previous one, allowing you to hear the hum of a strong electrical current. You wondered whether you should call for a guard to see what they were going to do with you, but what was the point? You would probably find out soon enough anyway.

Sitting up in the corner of the cell, you examined the damage to your arms. You had always thought that Cybertronians didn’t feel much pain compared to humans, but evidently you were wrong. The only difference between the two species was how resilient Cybertronians were. Whoever your kidnappers were, they knew how to get past Cybertronian resistances.

You heaved a sigh and winced as you put your arms down. You thought about trying to call Swerve again but decided against it. He was probably trying to call you, and if he couldn’t do it then you had to be too far away.

‘_Swerve…_’ You thought of him and all the ways he made you happy. Being without him since the first time you were married only made you morose as you sat with nothing but the hum of the fence to keep you company.

This could be the last night of your life before it came to an untimely end. With that in mind, you thought of Swerve and started to sing.

_“I'm sticking with you,_

_Cause I'm made out of glue._

_Anything that you might do,_

_I'm gonna do too.”_


	6. The Arena

“That is the cruellest thing I have ever seen you do,” Swerve glowered at you.

“It had to be done. There was nothing else for it,” You replied nonchalantly.

“RODNEY DID NOTHING WRONG.”

“He existed.”

“SO YOU JUST KICKED HIM OUT FOR EXISTING?”

“Look, you get to choose your Animal Crossing villagers, and I get to choose mine.”

“Abuse them, more like,” Swerve pouted.

“Fine, do you want to play on the switch and adopt an ugly-ass hamster who does nothing but bitch all day?” You asked, holding the console out to Swerve.

He took it from you, placing it on the tallest shelf in the hab-suite, “You can have this back when you learn kindness, you monster.”

“… That’s just mean,” You said, looking despondently at the shelf which was labelled No Man’s land. Beside the switch was a copy of Harry Potter which had been removed from you until you could read it without yelling at Snape every time you saw his name, and several pictures of Getaway which you had scrawled insults on; Swerve wasn’t punishing you for those, he just liked admiring them every now and then while you worked on new insults to scribble.

“Okay, fine, you can have it back right now, if you say that hamsters are cute,” Swerve grinned.

“Clearly, you’ve never seen one in real life. They work for the devil and steal people’s souls. I’m ninety percent sure that they also have armies ready to-”

Pain wracked your body and you woke up screaming to find your captors prodding you with weapons akin to cattle prods but much larger and stronger. It was the same creatures that had captured you.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” You yelled through the pain.

The humanoids didn’t reply, staying eerily silent; you wondered whether they were even capable of communication in a way that you might understand.

“All right, that’s enough… For now,” A human called, stepping forward, looking completely out of place among the others.

Your captors backed away, leaving you alone with the human on the opposite side of the cell. You glared at the woman, who couldn’t have been older than thirty. She wore acidic green armour that bore a symbol of a decapitated robotic head with wires and cables sticking out from the neck; the ensemble made you nervous.

“So… You’re our newest contestant. How dull,” She commented boredly, examining you.

“Contestant? What do you mean?” You asked fearfully.

Once again, you were left without a reply as the woman pulled out a dictation machine and began talking into it as if you weren’t there. “Subject is of questionable build. A Minibot. No definable insignia – probably a NAIL. Presumably no fighting skill of which to speak. No weapon attachments that can be seen. One noticeable draw to the crowds is that it’s a female – a rarity in itself.”

“Oh my God, are you- Fuck, are you putting me in the hunger games?” You demanded incredulously.

“The bot uses organic terms in communication. It’s possible that it has spent much of its time around organic communities rather than with its own kind.”

Although you knew you could argue that you weren’t originally a Cybertronian, you decided that it probably wouldn’t get you very far with your captor; she was clearly only interested in her job, whatever that was. You doubted that you would get anywhere talking to her.

“So that’s it? You’re going to put me into an arena to fight? Did I get it right? Hey! HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU. YEAH, BITCH WITH THE BAD HAIR, YOU!”

The childish attempt at an insult earned you a bemused glance, and the woman paused the dictation machine.

“You ought to mind your manners, or you’ll be in a much worse condition before the fight, and that will only bore the spectators,” She warned you.

“I’ll behave, if you at least tell me your name. I’d like to know who I’m insulting.”

Your roguish attitude earned a sadistic smile; it wasn’t every-day that your captor met a Cybertronian with any spirit left, “Lady Ouida.”

“Stupid name,” You murmured, mostly to hide your fear. “So I’m right about this being a colosseum of sorts?”

“Yes. You are to fight in the arena.”

“And if I win, I go free?”

“No. If you win, we kill you anyway. The people are out for Cybertronian blood after all.”

“Wow… That’s so fucking stupid. Like for real, did you take this out of a book? It’s not very creative is it? How many movies have you seen where the hero is thrown into a death ring to battle? Plus, there’s not going to be much of a fight. I mean, look at me. My arms are all fucked up from your bodyguards, I’m clearly not a fighter, and I’m like only three feet taller than you. Factor in multiple opponents and you get a five-minute fight, tops which will mostly be me running for my life.”

“You don’t seem too concerned with your fate.”

“Bitch, I am terrified, but I’ve seen death and been dragged back from it. I have defined the meaning of an out of body experience. Right now, I am competing with forces that you cannot even imagine in a brain that was not meant for me. In other words, there is nothing you can do that is worse than what I’ve been dealing with for the last forty-eight hours so GET FUCKED.”

The words PERSONALITY MALFUNCTION appeared on your visor, and you knew they were true. In your human form, you tended to avoid confrontation where you could. However, faced with the prospect of unavoidable death, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were only two options left for you anyway. Die in an arena, or wait for the Lost Light to come to your rescue. As you stared into the grinning face of Lady Ouida who had developed a sudden interest in you, you hoped it was the latter.

* * *

Chromedome sat miserably in the brig, having been put there for attempting to forcibly alter Swerve’s memory banks with mnemosurgery. He had lost count of how many times he had been in that exact scenario, where mnemosurgery was the only way forward, but nobody else would see it that way. How many times had Rewind refused to talk to him because of it? How often had he been forced to alter Rewind’s memory afterwards so he wouldn’t leave him? Chromedome held his head in his servos, thinking of Rewind. He wouldn’t believe it if Chromedome said it was all for Swerve. So what if mnemosurgery felt good, as long as it helped people it wasn’t that bad. Sure there were risks, but there were risks to all sorts of things that people did anyway.

With nothing else to do but think of his failure, Chromedome waited despondently in his cell, with the faintest of hopes that Rewind might deign to visit him, even if it was just to yell.

Ultra Magnus watched the security footage stoically from the computer panel in his office. As well as Chromedome, he was also watching Swerve, who had been restrained for his own safety and was sobbing loudly, screaming your name, and Whirl who was in the med-bay, awaiting yet another energon transfusion. Of the three, Whirl worried Ultra Magnus the most; he was not taking well to Ratchet’s surgery. He had damaged one of his internal components beyond repair and it was now up to Perceptor to create a suitable replacement. The replacement would undoubtedly need constant maintenance for the rest of Whirl’s life if he survived, but it was the only way forward.

Ultra Magnus looked up as the door flew open, and Rodimus came barging in.

“THIS IS A DISASTER!” Rodimus roared.

For once, Ultra Magnus didn’t have the spark to placate Rodimus; he was right, everything was going disastrously.

“WHIRL IS DYING. CHROMEDOME IS ALL KINDS OF MESSED UP. REWIND BLAMES ME FOR WHATEVER REASON. SWERVE IS SUICIDAL AND (Y/N) IS MISSING. _Please_ tell me you have something that might help fix this mess?”

“I do not,” Ultra Magnus replied quietly. He had never felt like such a failure. Under his watch, everything had gone wrong. The Magnus armour was getting heavier every day; he didn’t deserve to wear it.

“FRAG! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? SHE COULD BE IN DANGER. THE ROD POD’S TRACKING SYSTEM IS FRAGGED. THE CREW ARE FURIOUS. THEY HAVEN’T BEEN THIS MAD SINCE-”

“OUT OF THE WAY, COMING THROUGH,” Nightbeat’s voice called in the corridor as he weaved through the few bots out there and made his way into the office with Megatron close behind him.

“Rodimus. Ultra Magnus,” Megatron greeted professionally, before gesturing for Nightbeat to take over.

“I FOUND (Y/N),” Nightbeat began ecstatically, completely missing the sombre atmosphere.

“What? How?” Rodimus asked, dumbfounded.

“I watched the Rod-Pod’s ejection from the bay and followed it through the security cameras. After that, it was simply a matter of predicting several plausible trajectory’s considering that (Y/N) isn’t a pilot-”

Rodimus waved his arms, “Forget I asked. Just tell me where she is.”

Nightbeat ignored his disappointment that the big reveal had been ruined; it had taken a lot of work for him to covertly listen to all the radio stations where you might have landed and then locate you from that. “She’s on a privately owned planet called The Arena.”

“The… The Arena?”

Megatron nodded solemnly, “Yes. My research tells me that they capture stray Cybertronians and-”

“Don’t tell me. They put them in the arena ‘cos they think that’s creative… Primus, that’s annoying. All right, plan time. We change course, go to The Arena, break in, rescue (Y/N) and make everything go back to normal. Any questions?”

Megatron took a moment to consider the plan, “How-”

“No? Great. Then let’s go. We’ve got work to do.” Rodimus transformed and drove out of the office to head to Brainstorm’s lab. He had brushed it off with his usual casual demeanour but just like everyone else, he was furious that anyone would want to hurt you. If he was going to rescue you, he would need weapons; the morally-grey kind that Brainstorm made.

* * *

Swerve sniffled, feeling pathetic as coolant that he couldn’t wipe away under his constraints dripped down his front. Yet another failed suicide attempt to go on his record; he couldn’t even do that right. He remembered the last time he had done something so drastic, when you had come to save him from himself; you had probably only married him out of pity. Despite the depressing thought, Swerve found himself unable to believe it. You had married him because for some reason that he didn’t understand, you loved him. The two of you had spent one year married and it had been the best year of Swerve’s life. When you brought up the idea of sparklings on your anniversary, Swerve couldn’t believe that life could be any better, and now after all of that you were gone.

Although Swerve longed to wallow in self-pity, he couldn’t help thinking of Chromedome. It seemed that his last conversation was finally sinking into Swerve’s processor. What was it he had said exactly? Swerve vented air through his systems, calming himself so he could isolate the memory file.

“YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N)!”

While it was true that Chromedome could have just said that to stop Swerve from ending his life, there was also a slim possibility that Chromedome really did have new information about you.

Swerve kept replaying the memory’s audio, listening for the truth. As a bartender, he liked to believe he was good at separating lies from the truth, but when the other bots were sober, he wasn’t very good at it.

“(Y/N)…” Swerve whispered your name, wondering what he might not know about you as of that moment.

What if you had come back and he was wallowing in his cell, too wrapped up in himself to know about it? It wasn’t possible. If you were back, it didn’t matter what state Swerve was in; he would have been taken to you. Unless…

Swerve struggled to sit up, his processor racing with endless possibilities pertaining to your fate. What if he hadn’t been taken to you because your new body was failing? What if you were dying and Swerve wasn’t there? What if he was the only one that could help you?

Unbalanced as he was, Swerve managed to stand up. He started kicking at the door, yelling as loud as he could.

“HEY! GET ME OUT OF HERE! TAKE ME TO MY WIFE! TELL ME WHERE (Y/N) IS!”

Swerve didn’t pay much heed to what he was saying. All he cared about was getting to you, no matter what it took.


End file.
